


Never Have I Ever

by LukeVonCastiel



Category: Guild Wars, Guild Wars 2
Genre: Drinking, Drinking Games, Humor, Incest, M/M, Multi, Never Have I Ever, Sexual Humor, Sexual Tension, Silly, Snogging, Twincest, Unrequited Crush
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-29
Updated: 2015-01-29
Packaged: 2018-03-09 13:27:01
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,411
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3251414
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LukeVonCastiel/pseuds/LukeVonCastiel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Malyck takes a break and experiences his first drinking game; ridiculous questions, tomfoolery, a certain sort of tension, and strange thoughts are sure to follow. Laranthir and Tiachren are pleasant enough company, but Arlon and Pellam? Oh Mother save them all.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Never Have I Ever

**Author's Note:**

> There's no sex, but plenty of discussion of sexual things. What else would you expect from a drinking game fic? Anyway, you've been warned (by this and the tags). Have fun!!

"Are you certain there are not more appropriate things we could be doing?" Malyck asked, twisting the cup in his hands around for the fifth time. The warm light of the candles reflected off the glass, and set its amber contents liquid aflame. He peered at it skeptically. "With all the evil that corrupts this land, is there really time for this tomfoolery?"  
  
As he spoke he placed his glass back upon the table, looking around the room at his four companions. The table itself was a reasonable-sized piece, designed to sit ten or twelve, made from strong oak and decorated by warmly-coloured petals. Upon its surface sat several bottles of alcohol, three bowls of mixed berries, and two golden candelabra, one toward the head of the table, near Laranthir, and one toward the end, where Tiachren sat. Opposite Malyck, one slightly to his left, the other his right, stood the twins, both grinning with wicked glee.  
  
"Forgive us, Sir Malyck," Pellam said. "But there is no being alive on Tyria that can dedicate every waking moment of their life to valiant causes." As he spoke, he raised his shimmering goblet. "Even you."  
  
"And anyone who’s tried has ended up more useless than those who learnt to take a rest," Arlon added. "So smile, or at least attempt a smirk you dour sod. Besides, no harm’s ever come from a drinking game!"  
  
"Clearly you’ve never drunk with Vigil folk," Laranthir murmured, shaking his head. From what Malyck had gathered, the Vigil’s second-in-command was on leave, as ordered by Almorra Soulkeeper. Apparently he’d been working himself into an early grave, and Malyck would have to concur. The petal flesh beneath his eyes looked bruised, and his posture weary, shoulders hunched.  
  
"Well, no, but I have drunk with norn!" Arlon proclaimed proudly. "As has good Pellam, and we learnt many things that day!’  
  
"Like the art of norn-propelled flight," Pellam snickered.  
  
"Shut it!" Arlon scowled, and Malyck resisted the urge to roll his eyes as the twins descended into petulant bickering. Instead he turned his gaze to Tiachren, who fidgeted uncomfortably at the end of the table. He, like Laranthir, had not meant to be here. But whilst Laranthir’s leave was to heal his overworked body, Tiachren’s was to mend his broken spirit.  
  
 _'And somehow, that equates to…this,'_ he thought, watching as Arlon and Pellam's argument grew more ridiculous by the second.  
  
"Very well," Malyck said, silencing the twins. "So, we rest, and ground ourselves once more so as not to forget what we fight for. I understand." He gave both the brothers a serious look. "With that said, what game shall we play?" Malyck himself knew of none, his own Dream and experiences having left him woefully unprepared when it cam to drunken ridiculousness.  
  
The twins were quiet for a moment, muttering back and forth. From the looks on Laranthir’s and Tiachren’s faces, whatever they were thinking, or feeling, did not bode well. It was unfortunate that he could not gain insight through their Dream’s connection.  
  
But all the same, one did not need an empathic connection to know the twins had some mischievous nonsense planned.  
  
"Alright, we have come to an agreement!" Pellam announced.  
  
"That would be a first," Laranthir chuckled. Malyck could only laugh at that, and was pleased to hear Tiachren do the same. The twins huffed.  
  
"Ahem," Pellam cleared his throat. "We had decided that we shall play ‘Never Have I Ever!’" A groan sounded from Tiachren’s end of the table, and Malyck cast a glance his way. The pale sylvari had placed his head in his hands.  
  
"Well someone’s played this before!" Arlon said.  
  
"I’m certain everyone aside from Malyck has played this before," Laranthir responded. "Not that there’s anything wrong with not knowing." He nodded toward Malyck and raised his glass. "To learning new things!"  
  
"Hm, I can drink to that," Malyck smirked, and took a drink from his glass, as did the others. The drink itself was a bizarre hybrid of human finery, norn hardiness, and sylvari ingenuity. Fancy, strong, yet sweet. "So," he said, "What are the rules?"  
  
"Simple," Pellam explained. "Each person takes a turn to state something they have never done, typically using the phrase ‘never have I ever.’"  
  
"Obviously," Arlon snorted. Pellam shot him a look, and swatted him. "Ouch!"  
  
"Quiet," Pellam said, before turning back to Malyck. "Anyway, so when it’s their turn, a person states something they have never done-"  
  
"You just said th- ouch!"  
  
"-and then the rest of the group must take a drink if they have done the thing the speaker says they never have."  
  
"And if no one in the circle has done the thing, the speaker must then take a drink themselves," Laranthir added, "Or so the norn say."  
  
"The norn would say anything to encourage more drinking," Tiachren murmured. Malyck could only nod in agreement; his contact with the giant folk had been limited, but he had learnt quickly of the norn’s great appreciation for drink.  
  
"So, are there any other rules?" Malyck asked.  
  
"None, well…" Pellam paused for a moment, then cast Alron a playful grin. Arlon’s face lit up at the sight, and he nodded viciously. "Alright, just this one. It wasn’t designed for this particular version of the game, but rather for ‘Have you Ever?’, but my brother and I believe it appropriate."  
  
"No asking questions about why another drinks," Alron said. "Not for details, not for nothing. Otherwise you must fulfil a dare, chosen by the person you questioned!"  
  
Malyck snorted. “I had no intention of asking questions; to be honest I’d rather not know.”  
  
'Careful friend,” Tiachren warned. “I must recommend caution, for once you have consumed a drink or two neither your mind or tongue will be as restrained and sensible as they are now.”  
  
Malyck frowned at that, though gave the other a polite nod to know he had taken his words to heart. Truth be told, Malyck was no connoisseur of any sort of drink, wine nor ale nor beer nor mead, nor any other beverage of the kind. He had no knowledge of how swiftly the effects of alcohol would take hold and blunt the sharp edge of his thoughts.  
  
 _'Perhaps this is a bad idea,'_ he thought. Laranthir and Tiachren both seemed calm, however, and the twins looked positively ecstatic. 'Well, we cannot know until the night is over and the dawn sheds light upon all things.'  
  
"Well then, if we’re all sorted, then I say we decide who begins," Pellam said.  
  
"Arm wrestling!" Arlon exclaimed. Pellam pursed his lips.  
  
"No, and Laranthir would beat you anyway," he scowled. Arlon made to argue, but was silenced with the wave of a hand. "Can everyone here play ‘Crush, Cover, Snip?’" He smiled when everyone nodded their heads. "Good, we shall do that then. Laranthir, you shall challenge Arlon, and I shall challenge Tiachren. Malyck, as this is your first time, playing, I say it would be best if you did not go first."  
  
Malyck nodded his acceptance, and watched in amusement as Arlon’s ‘Rock’ lost to Laranthir’s ‘Paper’, and Pellam’s ‘Scissors’ defeated Tiachren. Laranthir and Pellam drew twice, before Laranthir ultimately won the game.  
  
"Right, top up your cups friends, for it is time to begin!" Laranthir proclaimed. The group filled their glasses, and waiting for the secondborn to make his statement. Malyck felt himself grimace as his eye’s settled upon him, and felt that grimace grow threefold as he gave him an apologetic nod.  
  
"Never have I ever not played a game of ‘Never Have I Ever’ before this night."  
  
"Really? That’s it?" Malyck took a swig off his glass anyway, ignoring the giggles from his fellow sylvari.  
  
"Laranthir, that was awful," Tiachren shook his head. "And you know that’s not the sort of question typically asked in these games." Laranthir gave a light shrug, though he did not stop giggling.  
  
"Right, my turn!" Arlon announced "Never have I ever been propositioned for sex by an asura!"  
  
"That was one time, let it go!" Pellam protested, taking a drink all the same. Arlon stuck out his tongue, while Laranthir laughed, though he did take a subtle sip of his own drink. Malyck simply tried not to choke.  
  
"Now that’s a little more like it," Tiachren sighed, giving Malyck a sympathetic look. Malyck coughed, giving his chest a thump while the others looked on.  
  
"You could have warned me," he said. He was unsurprised at the toothy grins he received in response to that.  
  
"Right, well, my turn," Pellam smiled. "Never have I ever been tossed across a room for saying something foolish to a norn."  
  
"Now who won’t let it go!" Arlon accused, before knocking back his glass. The group were all surprised when Laranthir drank however. For a moment, Malyck thought someone who ask him what he’d say, before he remembered the penalties for such questions.  
  
 _'I'd rather not discover what dares these four could come up with,'_ he thought, leaning back in his chair. He swirled his cup in his hand, turning his attention to Tiachren. He looked thoughtful, then smiled.  
  
"Never have I ever been turned down for a date," he said. Both the twins flushed brightly, casting a dirty look in Tiachren’s direction and mumbling under their breaths. Once again, Laranthir drank, though he seemed a little less jovial.  
  
Malyck himself felt no need to drink. After all, having never asked for someone’s romantic company did mean he’d never been rejected. He was, however, curious, and since the rules had never stated that one could not ask the questioner things.  
  
"You’ve never been denied a date, Tiachren?" As soon as he spoke the words, he felt something shift. Tiachren’s smile fell a little, though the man fought valiantly to keep it upon his face.  
  
"I, well, I never…Ysvelta never said no, and there was no one else," he looked down into his cup, "She was my first and only love."  
  
 _'Fantastic. Well done Malyck.'_ Even without a connection to their Dream, Malyck could still feel the overall shift in mood. It made him uncomfortable, and he felt foolish and callous, especially after his earlier words about asking questions. Worst of all, Tiachren was sweet. A kind and noble soul, and he had upset him. It was obvious, despite the other's attempts to smile.  
  
Yet to prolong the sudden seriousness seemed to undermine the entire point of the drinking game, and he doubted begging forgiveness would make Tiachren feel better. So instead he scrabbled about in his head for a suitable question, one that was equal parts ridiculous and sexual, and certain to get a laugh, and blurted it out without thinking.  
  
"Never have I ever touched myself intimately."  
  
"You what?" Arlon exclaimed, eyes wide. Pellam seemed equally surprised, whilst Laranthir simply laughed some more, hiding his face behind his glass. Tiachren gaped for a moment, before flushing brightly.  
  
Then all four took a drink.  
  
"Well the game appears to be in full swing now," Laranthir winked at Malyck. "Hmmm. What to ask, what to ask?" He sat and wondered a moment, tapping a hand on the tabletop. "Never have I ever used my mouth upon someone’s most intimate parts."  
  
Malyck watched as the other three participants drank, with Arlon and Pellam glancing at one another as they did so. The look they shared was curiously heated, and Malyck felt as if he had seen something not meant to be shared with him.  
  
Wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, Arlon smirked. “Never have I ever stuck a toy in my ass.”  
  
"Arlon!"  
  
"Pellam?" Arlon raised a brow, mouth split into a sly grin. His twin gave him a fierce glare, which grew even fiercer as he swallowed the last of his glass and reached out to fill it once more. Malyck noticed Laranthir do the same, though the secondborn tried desperately to be subtle.  
  
 _'Well then,'_ he thought. _'Probably more than I ever wanted to know.'_ But deep down he was forced to acknowledge some part of him actually did want to know, and he could only wonder at it. True, his companions were all quite attractive, but Arlon and Pellam were ridiculous at the best of times, Tiachren was still in mourning, and Laranthir was a busy man, and one he still knew little about.  
  
But all four were, at their core, good people, and for a moment Malyck felt jealous at the fact they all shared an empathic connection and he did not.  
  
Then he realised Pellam was speaking, and tried to ignore the guilt and shame of his bitter thoughts to focus on what he was saying.  
  
"Never have I ever mistaken a charr’s tail for an explosive’s fuse."  
  
'Ah, another question designed to embarrass Arlon.'  
  
"Mother damn you Pellam," Arlon grumbled, taking another drink and refilling his cup. "Stop asking stupid questions."  
  
"You stop asking stupid questions."  
  
"No, you-"  
  
"Never have I ever had erotic thoughts about a firstborn," Tiachren swiftly interrupted. Malyck felt his cheeks colour then, and he knew he had to take a drink. He may never have touched himself, but he had considered doing so, briefly, during his long lonely nights searching for home.  
  
And each time the thought had occurred, images of Trahearne had conjured in his mind. He had even entertained the idea of courting him, upon returning to the Grove bringing aid and allies, but had discarded the idea upon learning the truth.  
  
Trahearne had loved another; one with the passion and beauty of the Sun itself. Trahearne had loved, Trahearne had lost, and now Trahearne simply had no time and no desire. And Malyck had never asked him, though he had mentioned it, in passing, to Caithe. She agreed his judgment was sound, and said no more on it.  
  
 _'He does seem the sort to only love once.'_  
  
He shook his head and took his drink, and felt somewhat reassured when the other three took drinks as well. He heard mumbles and snatches of names. Aife, Kahedins, Dagonet, Trahearne. He wondered if all the firstborn were named in those mutters.  
  
"Malyck!" It was Arlon who spoke. "When have you had erotic thoughts about a firstborn? You’ve not even been here three months!"  
  
Malyck’s heart seized; few knew of his earlier escapades around the Grove, Caledon, and the Wildlands. None knew of the time he had spent with Trahearne, Caithe, and the Valiant. And none were meant to know.  
  
And, if he were honest, he had little desire to share.  
  
Thankfully, Pellam came to his rescue.  
  
"Hah!" He laughed. "Penalty, Arlon!"  
  
"Thorns and brambles!"  
  
"Should’ve watched your tongue. Anyway, Malyck, it was you he asked, so it is you who dares."  
  
Malyck exhaled, taking a sip of his glass while he pondered what to do. He was relieved to have been spared an explanation for his thoughts, but that didn’t mean he had any idea what to do. He watched Arlon and Pellam bicker and tease, and the image of the two kissing flashed in his mind.  
  
 _'No, it would be unfair to involve another in Arlon's dare,'_ he thought, then narrowed his eyes. _'Though the looks they share, their knowledge of one another's sexual experiences…'_ Malyck shifted, pushing his suspicions aside as inspiration struck.  
  
"Arlon!" He called. The sylvari snapped to attention. Malyck gave him a sly grin. "I want you to get up on this table and sing ‘I am a Bonny Nornish Lass’ whilst performing a jig."  
  
"What!?" Arlon cried, as the room descended into a cacophony of shrieking laughter. Pellam in particular seem overjoyed at the prospect of his brother singing the bawdy tavern song whilst dancing, and both Laranthir and Tiachren were cackling madly at the mental images it brought forth.  
  
"Don’t ‘what’ me," Malyck said, voice cracking despite his stern expression. "I know you know the song; heard you singing along to it three weeks ago at the Nectar Hut." Arlon gave him a despairing look, before letting his head fall atop the table.  
  
"Go on, go on!" Pellam urged. "You have to do it! Have to!" Pellam’s taunting was cut off by a kick to the shin but Arlon climbed upon the table all the same. The bottles were removed from the table’s surface and Laranthir and Tiachren held the candelabra.  
  
Malyck moved his chair back, wary of making contact with any wildly kicking feet regardless of whether they accidental and vengeful swings. The others followed suit. Before Arlon could begin, however, Pellam shouted.  
  
"Wait!" He rummaged through his rucksack, which had been sitting in the corner of the room. Malyck saw him shuffle through a variety of odds and ends, useful little tools, and useless little trinkets. Finally he pulled out a long box, which contained a wooden flute.  
  
"A fiddle or lute is better for this song but I don’t carry them on me," he explained. Arlon snorted, arms crossed and foot tapping. Pellam gave him one final smug grin, then brought the flute to his lips and began to play.  
  
And Arlon began to dance and sing.  
  
"Oh over mountains tall and hills,  
  
Through doors and walls and window sills,  
  
Through desert heats and snowy chills,  
  
Oh I did surely hone my skills!  
  
With every lad that passed me by,  
  
With every lass beneath the sky,  
  
I taught them all the way to fly,  
  
With naught the need to go so high!  
  
I am a Bonny Nornish Lass,  
  
A legend that shall never pass,  
  
With greatest skill and stylish class,  
  
and sweetest, tightest, bonny ass!”  
  
Malyck waved his free hand at Arlon, the other covering his mouth as he tried to contain his howls of laughter. He felt no need to make the other sing the second or third verses; the audience was already out of breath, as it were, and he was quite satisfied with Arlon’s performance.  
  
Arlon himself was flushed; green cheeks darkened to almost emerald, and sweat dripping down his brow. Truthfully, his jigging was awful, but he’d given his all and Malyck could appreciate that.  
  
"See, this is what happens when you ask stupid questions," Pellam said, once he’d ceased guffawing. "Though I suppose we should thank Malyck; I can think of few songs that suit you better."  
  
"Oh shut it Pellam," Arlon grumbled, lips pouted and arms crossed. Malyck watched with interest as Pellam smirked; noticed the way he admired the blush upon his twin’s cheeks, greedily taking in the sight of his disheveled brother.  
  
 _'What is it considered, in sylvari culture, when one twin wishes to be with another?'_ He turned the question over in his mind; the sylvari had a different concept of family from other races, that much he knew. Any sylvari could find a brother, mother, or lover in another, regardless of age or cycle or station. But what of pod twins? Were the societal rules regarding them different? He himself was sylvari and yet he did not know.  
  
His thoughts were interrupted when he realised all eyes were upon him.  
  
"Ah, my turn." He paused, sifting through several questions. If the aim of the game was to be invasive, sexual, and ridiculous, then Malyck thought he’d have to pick well to gain the desired reactions of drinking and bemoaning.  
  
Then he smirked.  
  
"Never have I ever allowed another living creature to place their parts in my ass." The look Arlon sent him was absolutely filthy, but Malyck didn’t even bother disguising his amusement as he and Pellam both took a drink. He noticed, from the corner of his eye, that neither Laranthir nor Tiachren did. While he was not particularly surprised that Tiachren had not, seeing as he had only been with Ysvelta, the fact Laranthir hadn’t and yet had apparently made use of some sort of toy was intriguing.  
  
 _'Intriguing?'_ He glanced at his cup, nearly empty. “Clearly I cannot hold my drink if I am already finding those sort of things intriguing.”  
  
He did not realise he had spoken aloud until the others burst into drunken giggles. No one asked him what he thought, however, and for that Malyck took their giggling with some measure of gratefulness.  
  
The game continued on after that; several rounds passed, and the questions only grew more ridiculous. _‘Never have I ever roleplayed in bed,’_ had been one. _‘Never have I ever touched a creature not sylvari intimately,’_ had been another. More and more, stranger and stranger, and despite his limited sexual experiences, which actually amounted to nothing more than the rare fantasy, Malyck found he was drinking more and more often.  
  
Still, he could only be glad that he was not as drunk as the twins, who had managed to finish two bottles themselves and were part of the way through their third. Tiachren too appeared quite tipsy, and though Laranthir appeared to be holding up well, his cheeks were aglow and he could not stop smiling.  
  
"Right, my turn again," Laranthir said, his words slurring slightly. "Never have I…ever have I…" He trailed off, biting his lip. Then he clapped his hands together as inspiration struck, like lightning on a stormy day. "Never have I ever performed mutual oral intimacy with another."  
  
"How did you even managed to say that without st-stuffing it up?" Pellam asked. Laranthir simply shrugged, and all aside from him and Malyck took a drink. Malyck watched as, once again, the twins shared a look, heavy with hidden meaning. At the back of his head, a little voice reminiscent of his own parroted Tiachren’s words of caution, then proceeded to screech and cry as it was promptly drowned by the brew he’d been consuming.  
  
"Did you two do it together?" He asked the twins. Both proceeded to splutter, Arlon choking and Pellam coughing up his beverage. Somewhere to his left, Malyck heard rather undignified snorting, and to the right, giddy laughter.  
  
"Begging your pardon?" Pellam finally managed to say, wiping his chin.  
  
"Begging your nothing!" Arlon scowled, before his lips twitched up in a dangerous smile. "You just asked two drinkers a question! That’s double the penalties, Malyck!"  
  
"Oh," Malyck resisted the urge to gulp. "Thorns."  
  
A dreadful chill ran up his spine. The twins exchanged a glance, then swivelled back to look at him with matching smiles. Devious and vengeful, or as vengeful as one could be at an event as light-hearted as this. Arlon in particular looked delighted at the prospect of daring Malyck.

They turned to each other then, whispering conspiratorially. Malyck resisted the urge to lean in, hands gripping the table, fingers dancing across the wood nervously.

"Laranthir," Arlon piped up, swinging about the face the secondborn. The sylvari in question looked up from his cup, his previous joviality coming to an abrupt stop. Then his face began to darken, the colour of his cheeks deepening dramatically.

"Tiachren," Pellam crooned, and there was no denying the mischief in his voice. Tiachren groaned.

"Drinking games are the death of romance," he muttered, before knocking back the rest of his glass and pouring himself some more. Malyck’s brow creased, his antennae twitching slightly in bemusement until it dawned upon him.

"Wait, you two-!"

"I dare you to snog Laranthir!"

"I dare you to kiss Tiachren!"

"But how is that fair?" Malyck exclaimed, standing from his seat. The twins cocked their heads to the side, smiling coyly. "They did nothing!"

"Malyck," Tiachren said. Malyck turned to look at him, sitting calmly in his chair. "If it is for the honour of myself or Laranthir you protest, then you needn’t. This sort of dare is typical; quite tame in fact. The only reason I was oft spared from such dares in the past was…" Ysvelta. The two, to Malyck’s knowledge, had been dedicated to one another in both body and soul; of course their fellows would have never asked them to kiss another

"T’is true," Laranthir added, though his voice was a touch more melancholic than Tiachren’s. "Besides, I gave my first kiss in a drinking game. All my kisses, in fact. Receiving one more would not offend me."

Malyck pursed his lips. There was meaning in those words; Laranthir’s kisses had all been the result of a game. His pleasure had all come from himself, or so it seemed from the answers he had given throughout the night.

He was to kiss a man who had lost his beloved, and a man who had never found one. It chaffed him, somewhat. He respected them. Though he had not been long in the Grove, he had fought at Laranthir’s side once, against a Court ambush. He had spoken to him, seen his determination and love for his work, but also his loneliness, the things he sacrificed for peace.

Tiachren too, he cared for. He had spent more time in his company, at Caithe’s suggestion. _'Still he grieves for love long lost; first to darkness, then back to the Dream. Give him a purpose beyond his mourning; let him be your guide to the Grove and beyond.'_ And a good guide he had been, and the two had become dear friends.

_'They are dear to me,'_ he thought, and his stomach fluttered. _'It feels unfair to kiss them, but I…I want to?'_

Malyck swivelled back to the twins, still grinning as perversely as they had been before. He could see, in their eyes, a spark of ‘something.’ Tricky and cunning, and deeper than anything he could have expected from the fools. Though friends they were to him, they bickered and bantered and rarely agreed, and ever were they at odds.

But now; now they were united in some plan. Malyck wondered if perhaps they’d been united all along, weaving this together since the beginning of the night.

"So-" Arlon began.

"-your dares?" Pellam finished.

"If the others consent to it, then I shall see it done," Malyck replied. Then he drank, finished the last of his cup and appreciated the sweet, strong heat of it. Then he glanced around the room, searching until he spotted what he sought. On a small shelf sat a vase, housing tulips of many colours. He strode over to it and plucked loose a single red one, then walked around the table to Laranthir.

"Laranthir," he said, then knelt and presented the secondborn with the bloom. Laranthir’s eyes were wide, and his breathing quickened. Malyck watched as he flushed cheeks grew more so, and his lips quirked up in a surprise smile. "If you would give me the honour."

Laranthir nodded, and Malyck leant forward. He captured the other’s lips in a kiss, his first if not the secondborn’s. He recalled the exact wording of Arlon’s dare, and deepened it, shifting so that he could slide a hand behind Laranthir’s head, parting his lips. He pushed closer, Laranthir’s legs parting so he could kneel between them. Malyck felt himself shiver at the intensity of it, the taste of Laranthir mingling with the drink of the night.

Then he heard Arlon whistle.

"Wow," he said, as Malyck parted from Laranthir and stood once more. "I’m impressed, really."

"Thank you, Laranthir," Malyck murmured, ignoring Arlon’s comments. Laranthir nodded, looking at the red tulip dangling in his hands. He appeared a little dazed, but his eyes sparkled more brightly than they had in months.

Malyck gave him a low bow, then walked back to the vase. Once again he took a single red tulip and knelt, this time before Tiachren. Having witnessed the previous display, Tiachren’s face was covered in an eager blush, and Malyck thought, a hint of shame. Shame that he desired to kiss another, one not Ysvelta.

_'You need not be as Trahearne is, Tiachren,'_ he thought. _'Some will only love once, then seal away their romances forever. But you still wish for more.'_

"Tiachren," he said, and offered the ruby flower. Tiachren took it, but then held up a hand.

"You, uh…" he stuttered slightly, then waved a hand as if to offer Malyck a seat upon his lap. "I am not sure it would be comfortable to kneel again whilst…"

Malyck smiled then moved to sit upon the other’s lap. He pointedly ignored the twins whooping, though he did spare a glance for Laranthir, who watched longingly, still clutching his own tulip. Then he gave his full attention to Tiachren, whose arms had wrapped themselves around his waist.

Then he kissed him. there was no need for it to be as deep as Laranthir’s kiss, as Pellam had not specified, but Malyck had no desire to make Tiachren feel less desirable. He pushed his tongue against his lips, hands clutching at Tiachren’s cheeks and-

The door opened.

Malyck pulled back with a start to see firstborn Aife standing in the doorway, surveying the scene before her with hands upon hips. She looked over him, seated upon Tiachren’s thighs, to Laranthir covering his face with his hands, to the twins gasping for air as their unified cackling reach its highest point. Her eyes passed over the many empty bottles littering the table and floor, then looked to Arlon and Pellam again.

All whilst smirking. Coolly. Calmly.

If Malyck were honest, terrifyingly.

"Boys," she said, directly to the twins. "When I said you could sample my latest brew, I meant just that. _Sample_. Not,” she looked back to Malyck, frozen in his seat with Tiachren’s arms around him, “steal it all for drunken shenanigans.” She paused thoughtfully, truly taking in the sight before her. “Though now I’m here, please, feel free to continue. Don’t stop on my account.”

At that Malyck did stop however, quickly clambering away from Tiachren and bowing to the firstborn. “Firstborn Aife, I-“

"-was dragged into this foolishness by two fellows more manipulative than anyone gives them credit for," she interrupted, clapping her hands. "Now, time for bed I think. Off you trot, and make sure to speak with a more sober sylvari before you sleep. Don’t want you gagging on your own tongues." She laughed. "Or each other’s. Arlon, Pellam, I’ll send someone over to keep an eye on you two."

She circled the room once, collecting the few remaining bottles of brew and placing the emptied ones neatly upon the table. Then she gave them all a smile, and left.

"Well, I think that’s the end of it," Laranthir said, standing quickly. "Thanks for inviting me," he nodded at the twins, before striding to the door. He stopped at the threshold to look back at Malyck, however, and Tiachren. He smiled, hesitantly, looked to his tulip, then passed through the door and was gone. Malyck noted that his weary look was gone, the dark shapes beneath his eyes vanquished.

Tiachren watched him go, then left himself. As Laranthir did, he thanked the twins, then cast Malyck a look. His eyes seemed a little less sad; a glitter of hope washing away the shadows of grief and mourning He held his own flower to his chest as he left, returning to his home for the night.

Finally, Malyck turned to the twins. Both were still seated, chuckling drunkenly as they looked at him. He watched them both for a moment.

"Was I right?" He asked. "About you two?"

The twins shrugged, laughing some more. Arlon poked Pellam, who attempted to wave the offending finger away. They continued their antics, ignoring Malyck and his question.

"Alright, fine," Malyck sighed. The night itself had been a bizarre experience. Drinking games and foolish curiosity and latent attractions bursting to the surface. And too many ridiculous questions.

With a shake of his head, full of warm tingles that made it hard to walk with some sort of dignity, he headed to the door. Within the petaled frame he paused, as Arlon spoke.

"Yes. You were."

"But that wasn’t the question of the night," Pellam smiled. "The question of the night was ‘were we?’" He tilted his head toward the vase of tulips, his cryptic words made clear. Both he and his twin stared expectantly at Malyck.

"Perhaps," Malyck murmured, looking at the retreating backs of Laranthir and Tiachren. "I’ll find out." He smirked. "But whether you two do depends."

"On what!?" They cried in unison.

"If we find time for another drinking game."

And with that he walked away to rest until the morning, with too much drink in his stomach, too many thoughts in his head, and a smug smile upon his face.

**Author's Note:**

> This work was, in part, inspired by another (in that it introduced this particular drinking game to me). The fic in question is a Lord of the Rings' fic called 'Have You Ever' by epkitty.


End file.
